User blog:CuteLunaMoon/Chapter 5 : Cold-blooded
Journal of viscount Frederick IV Albert Von Mauve. This thirst is insatiable. What's happened to me? Blood used to sickened me, now, it's so sweet and I can't get it out of my head. I drag my wounded leg to the grass-growned pavement, sit down, and take deep breath. I wipe my mouth with my handkerchief and throw a pity look at the body heaps I left behind in my blood lust. Torn body parts litter the ground and viscera are laid bare on the cold cobble stone streets. I'm terried to see my arms have greatly increased in size and fur have covered the most part of it. My Pardessus is stink of blood and beast. When I stand up, I notice something is wrong with my trousers only to find that I have a tail behind my back. Am I a man or a beast? How could it happen to a noble men like me? This is a curse. This must be a curse. Although I could slit my throat right now to be awaken later, another death would be too much for my feeble mind to handle at this time. The old Hunters stated that dying too often would probably drive me insane, with each death the chance of shattering the frail human mind is far greater. Just before I stand up, I glance behind me, something scurrying about in the high grass arrests my notice and holds me immobile for a second. What I see—or fancy I see—is a nightmarish mass of decaying skulls and limbs, woven together. Even more nastier, it moves and feasts on the dead bodies' open bellies. I recall a clumsy, half-mad hand-drawing shown to me earlier by the Messengers . The old hunters call this misshapen creature "Wandering Nightmare". And it only shows up in the wildest, maddest night of the hunt. My wound is aching, and I have ran out of Blood Vial. And this thirst is insufferable. I need blood, I need to go back to the Hunter's Dream. Perhaps there were a cure for this beastly curse. I hear a shout somewhere near. Another hunting party! There are at least twenty of them. They must have seen the blood trails and the corpses! I quickly stand up and go back to Iosefka's clinic. When I walk past the statue of a hunched back woman, I notice dim light a of candle coming from a closed, weather-worn window pane. The window frame is reinforced with iron chains to keep the dwellers inside safe from nights like this. I throw my hand in my pocket. I still have five Shillings Old British unit of currency. 1 Shilling = 12 pence (or pennies). 1 penny = 2 halfpence. In the 1700s, 1 penny can buy a hefty loaf of bread " and seven pences here. Perhaps I could ask for a stay-in. I go for the front door and give it three long knocks. "Es ist niemand zu Hause... Entschuldige, outseiter!" (Germans)"There's nobody home...Sorry, outsider" A female voice answer. Probably it's Germans. Now I regret skipping the Germans class in university. " English. Do you speak it? Please let me in. I have money." I wave the silver shilling at the peephole. "Ohh, I’m terribly sorry... There's no one home... I'm really, really sorry... So sorry for ya..." The woman answer again. Meanwhile, I hear the sound of heavy object moving inside. Perhaps she's dragging a table to barricade her door. I quickly depart as I see the torches of the hunting party are drawing near. When I walk up a small bridge, I see many coffins, which are chained up, laid against the wall. Crouch in the shadow of coffins, I feel reasonably safe, even though I know the searchers are less than twenty yards away from me. I can see them, but they can not. Not long after, I catch glimpse of the advancing pursuers. Just as I fear, there are twenty five of them but fortunately no hunting dogs. I wait until their torches disappear after a turn and walk rapidly, softly, and close to the ruined houses which grow sparser on both side of the street. I shift from the southward streets to the eastward, for, the hunting party I saw earlier was doubtless after me. I walk and hide in the shadow for half an hour, trying to stay away from the crazed townsfolk. Fortune has favoured me, for, after a careless turn, I find the main street, leading directly down a slight declivity to the clinic. I climb down a ladder and from somewhere near, I hear a fearful howling of a beast. Gun fire and scream of folks echo the night. I stride more confident as the clinic is two blocks away from here. But just as soon as I can see its roof, a savage, distorted voice catches my notice. "Over here! The outsiders!" I quickly look back and see three huntsmen corner someone in a dark, humid alley. "The children… Give them to me." The touch bearer shouts and kicks someone who seems to be curling on the ground. " Come on, you idiots! Bloody simpleton! I silently walk closer. From the dim light of their torches, I can see the person they are harassing is a lady curling up on the ground to protect her two children. And I was taught to never leave a damsel in distress. I shout: " Over here, gentleman!" My shout undoubtedly captures their attention as they turn their hairy, menacing face towards me. " You damned dunce!! I’ll kill and skin you!" The axe-wielding hunstman advances and strikes me. I barely dodge his axe and lunge at him, wrestle him to the ground and tear his throat open with my fangs and claws. " Beast! a foul Beast!" Shout the other grizzled huntsmen and they quicky close in to help their dying comrade. The second huntsmen wields a pitchfork and the third only has a wooden shield and a torch. I easily dodge the clumsy swing of the pitchfork weilder and drive a dagger into his neck. But I misjudge the speed of the half-turned shield-weilder and it results in a shield ram right into my upper body. An attack like this would probably render me helpless, but ironically, the beastly transformation makes me far tougher. I grab him and cave his head in with one hand. Not enough. More blood. I return to the pitchfork-weilder, grab the axe on the ground and about to finish him. "Mercy... please!" The half-turned werewolf weakly plead. No use. But just before I smash his head with an axe, the crying of the children probably touch my soft human heart. i pause for a second or two, remove the dagger from his neck and apply a bandage there. "Hold it if you want to live" I coldly command, trying not to think of the sweet blood that is streaming from his open wound. I turn towards the beaten lady and her children. The kids are terrified by the scene of carnage and crying out loud. Their mother has grabbed a torch and point it towards me defensively. " It's okay... You are... safe now." I try to mutter the words. The monster is wrestling inside of me for control. The woman doesn't stop trembling and waves her torch more helplessly as I close in. She looks fairly young for a mother and the two little girls are at least eleven or twelve. I can see why the huntsmen wanted the kids. Their meat are more tender than the grown up's and their blood must be sweeter. " If I want to harm you... You think that torch would stop me?" I say and offer the young lady a hand, trying to ward off the inhuman thoughts "Can you stand?" She nods and grabs my hand, visibly still trembling in her feet. "Thank you, mister. We... I have nothing to thank you but this..." She opens her handbag, which is worn and ragged and takes out a half-empty Blood Vial. I grab it and drink to the last drop. My thirst. It's much better now. " It's not wise to walk out on a night of the hunt. I'm viscount Frederick VI of house Mauve. What's your name, missy ?" I ask. " I'm Catherine. This is Beatrice and Elena, my sisters..." She slowly answers while trying to stop the little girls form crying. " My homeland, plagued by a sickness that spares a few. We came here because they said Yharnam was the place for you if you were desperate." " It's not safe here, we will do the talking later. Now, I will find you a shelter. Take this." I pull my Hunter Pistol out and give it to her. " Do you know how to shoot?" She nods, thanks me and leads her sisters after me into the darkness. We soon come across several houses that show signs of being populated. "Please, somebody. Please let us in for a night. Just tonight. We have money and we will leave in the morning." Catherine knocks the first door and pleads. A man inside answers coldly: " Lousy offcomers. I'll have no business with anyone, while the hunt's on. " "But we have children here..." Catherine pleads again. " Then, good luck staying alive till morning" The house owner coldly answers. We try several more houses but none of them would let the girls in. One coldly shooed us off: "Are you those outsiders? Well, sorry, but I don't want anything to do with ya. Trot along, will ya." Another answered half-heartedly: "...What’s that? ...I...I can’t help you, apologies. Good night and good luck" Only an old woman took pity on the girls and offer us a meagre meal of "rabbit" stew but she also did not let them in. And so we press on, to the farther residence in the shadow blighted area. Somewhere far away, a werewolf is howling under the moonlit night. Explanations Category:Blog posts